Magic You May Have Missed
by AralynnEvenstar
Summary: Chapter 10 up, 8 months late. Snarry! Yay!
1. Severus Versus Diagon Alley

Magic You May Have Missed

Rating: PG-13 I don't think I'm really comfortable with Severus Snape having sex with an underage Harry Potter. I suppose as the story progresses the rating could change, but that really depends on where the plot takes me!

Spoilers: Haha…if you've never read the book or seen the movie, I wouldn't suggest reading ANYTHING related to Harry Potter unless it was written by J.K. Rowling. Surely it's common sense.

Disclaimer: This isn't entirely illegal, as I'm not making a profit off of it in anyway. I respect J.K. Rowling and the depths of her imagination so all of the characters belong entirely to her. I just suppose that my imagination is in full swing as well! shrewd grin

Summary: I took the name of my story from a special feature thing in the HP: PoA dvd. Severus hates Harry…actually loathes him entirely. But soon he begins to realize he may have misjudged the situation and perhaps, Harry isn't what he expected.

Let me take you back to magic you may have…missed. Back to a time where the wizarding world was growing with pride and vigor. Diagon Alley full to the brim with students from all over, gathering ingredients and books and parchment and quills to meet the next year's supply requirements on their Hogwarts Letter. This is before everyone was deathly afraid of Vold-'eh, er…You-Know-Who. Back to where our story begins.

Chapter 1- Severus Versus Diagon Alley

"Honestly, Severus, couldn't you brush your hair for once before going out in public? And that CHEMICAL stain on your pants is unacceptable!" A dark haired, hook-nosed, sallow, venomous woman was fussing a great deal over a thin, small boy that looked very much like herself. Only…his features were much softer and his hair was untamed upon his head.

"Mom! Stop fussing! You're only drawing more attention!" Severus looked around, his pale face a light shade of crimson. He'd never been a very social creature, always staying in his room playing with different household chemicals, and having quite a few eyes on him now horrified him.

Eventually his mother gave up and instructed him to go fetch his wand while she picked up his robes and other supplies. Then he was to 'go to the book store immediately…no wandering off to that vile potions store'! When she was out of sight, he rolled his eyes and made his way into Ollivander's. The store wasn't large by any means, but where there was shelf room, there were piles of boxes everywhere. Many shelves were half empty, packages and brown wrapping paper lay on the floor. The aftermath of a very busy day.

Mr. Ollivander peaked carefully around the corner, a touch of fear in his small eyes, then relaxed. "Hullo, boy! You look like…a Snape!" He never really gave Severus a moment to respond. "Almost a spitting image of your mother! Hand carved birch…nine inches! Yes, she had a fine and effective wand. I've never forgotten one wand I've made, really. Now let's see here. Ah yes, maple and phoenix feather, say eight inches? Give it a go!" Mr. Ollivander finally stopped speaking long enough to put the wand in Severus's hand and take a step back, allowing him to try it out.

With a flick of the wrist a few empty boxes on the counter exploded in flames and fell to ash on the empty floor. He looked worried. Things that went up in flames usually ended up in him being yelled at and sent to his room.

"No, no, not right. Here, let's try another one! Ebony and unicorn hair?" He held it out, thought for a moment, then took it back. "Nope, doesn't feel right. Perhaps oak and dragon scales?"

Severus took the wand and waved it about. At first nothing happened, so he tried again. This time, a large shelf crumbled to pieces and fell into a giant heap in front of him. "Sorry…I didn't…"

"Hmm…oh, I know!" Mr. Ollivander continued, hardly phased and in fact, rather pleased that he'd done less damage than most first years had. "Beechwood and unicorn hair! Ten and a half inches! I should think this one is perfect!"

Severus looked unconvinced and cynical, but took the wand into his hand anyway. This time, the wand glowed and sparked. Severus watched in amusement, but only a smirk appeared on his face.

"Perfect indeed! Easy task, I daresay. Well done, young Snape! I suppose it's all a matter of wand assortment, anyhow."

Glad to be out of the company of the eccentric Mr. Ollivander, Severus paid the man and made his way through the crowd toward the bookshop. After, of course, momentarily stopping in the potions store to pick up a few ingredients he was running low on. Once he finally reached the bookstore, he noticed that many of the shoppers had left and the clamor returned to normal. He thanked Merlin and quietly glanced around the bookstore for the angry stare of his mother, but it seems that the earlier commotion had hopefully caused a delay in her shopping. This meant time alone, admiring his new wand. To be honest, he was thrilled to go to Hogwarts, if only to get away from the disapproving glare that greeted him day in and day out. He decided to round up a few of his books when he almost ran into a small boy with thick, round glasses. Severus muttered a lame apology and tried to run away, but the boy stopped him.

"Oh, it's quite alright! That package in your hand…that's from Ollivander's! Your wand, 'eh? A genius, Ollivander. And potion ingredients. So do you go to Hogwarts, too? What year are you? I suppose we really get to make a lot of potions come our third year, huh?"

Severus just stared at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. He'd only bumped into the boy and was having his ear talked off for a SECOND time in one day. He suddenly wish him mom was there…at least she wouldn't talk so much.

"Oh, I'm sorry…James Potter! You are?"

"Uh…Severus Snape. And these aren't potions, they're test tubes." He lied in an as-a-matter-of-fact voice.

"I see…your first year, too?"

Severus nodded his head slowly in reply.

"Mine too. I'm looking forward to making all sorts of new friends! And now I've already met someone. What luck!"

Severus found he wasn't fond of the boy, James Potter. He seemed exceedingly…arrogant. Yeah, that was definitely his first impression.

"Uh, yeah."

"Ok, well I'll see you on the train, Severus! I still have to get my robes! G'Bye!" The boy waved and disappeared into the milling traffic of Diagon Alley almost as fast as he had ran into Severus. And Severus was once again, alone to reflect on how happy he was to be rid of the fast talking company. Finally he managed to pick out all of his books before his mom found him. She was as tired as he was, only much crankier.

Once he got home, he set about putting his stuff in a large trunk since the day of his train ride was only a few weeks away. Later he tried to read his Transfiguration book, but his mind kept wandering to James Potter and his hope to not run into the boy again. However, Severus was unaware that James Potter would change his life forever…


	2. Love Potion No 9

Magic You May Have Missed

Rating: PG-13 I don't think I'm really comfortable with Severus Snape having sex with an underage Harry Potter. I suppose as the story progresses the rating could change, but that really depends on where the plot takes me!

Spoilers: Haha…if you've never read the book or seen the movie, I wouldn't suggest reading ANYTHING related to Harry Potter unless it was written by J.K. Rowling. Surely it's common sense.

Disclaimer: This isn't entirely illegal, as I'm not making a profit off of it in anyway. I respect J.K. Rowling and the depths of her imagination so all of the characters belong entirely to her. I just suppose that my imagination is in full swing as well! shrewd grin

Summary: I took the name of my story from a special feature thing in the HP: PoA dvd. Severus hates Harry…actually loathes him entirely. But soon he begins to realize he may have misjudged the situation and perhaps, Harry isn't what he expected.

Chapter 2 – Love Potion No. 9

When Professor Severus Snape had heard about the Potters' demise and the survival of their son, he was not only muddled, but unfazed. It figured that James Potter would be the father of The-Boy-Who-Lived. He could only imagine the smug look on his arrogant face as the entire wizard community whispered praises about his son. He was surprised, however, to realize that eleven years had flown by and he's just been informed that the aforementioned boy was being sent his first Hogwarts letter. Dumbledore hadn't stopped talking about it for weeks.

It had made the already moody Potions Master very cranky. He found himself snapping and tongue lashing more often than usual. He also couldn't wait until the students came back (Was he sure he wasn't ill?) so he could stroll down the halls, reprimanding first years and taking points as he pleased. Except from Slytherin, of course. He was, afterall, head of Slytherin household. He'd hoped that the Potter boy wasn't sorted into his house, assuming that he'd be just like his father, however, he'd be a Gryffindor. Yes, so foolishly brave, baring headfirst into the dark unknown to save the world. He hadn't even met the boy, but he'd hated him already. Hated him completely. Entirely. With all of his frail being. But because Albus Dumbledore couldn't stop talking about him, Snape found it to his liking to stay in his dungeons, pacing and sulking, until the night of the feast.

That night came on a lovely, late summer day. Lovely for some, however, torture to others. And soon there were trunks and laughter as far as the eye could see. The dinning room was full of robes, running, hugs, and owls swooping everywhere. Complete chaos. A few of the fifth and sixth years even had the nerve to wave and SMILE at him…oh the horror! They were promptly greeted with a scowl that told them Professor Snape wouldn't be having a good year, so neither would they.

After what seemed like an eternity, the room quieted when the large wooden doors swung open and Minerva McGonagall shot a thin-lipped warning glance around the room. After she was satisfied, she disappeared, then reappeared to lead the first years through to the ceremony. Snape smirked as big a smirk as his cold heart would let him and carefully scanned the crowd. All of the new wizards seemed small from his high view from the table, yet some were even smaller than the others. Among all of those new heads, Snape couldn't seem to find Potter anywhere.

Suddenly, he tried not to chuckle. He'd been sick of hearing the boy's name all month, muttering under his breath, and cursing everyone that already thought the world of the 11 year-old-boy…yet there he was, trying to get a good look at him. What'd be next? Him turning into a blushing schoolboy, begging Potter for an autograph and perhaps a photo to send home to mommy dearest? Completely insolent…

"Hermione Granger!" Professor McGonagall's shrill voice snapped him out of his thoughts. A girl with wild, auburn curls gated up to the chair, a very serious expression on her face. If Snape hadn't known any better, he'd have said that Ms. Granger was McGonagall's long lost daughter. Both wore the same serious, prude set mouth and narrowed and perceptive eyes. Of course she'd be put in Gryffindor. Honestly, Slytherin never got the truly great minds.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Cried the hat. Ms. Granger jumped up from the seat and practically bounced toward the table. She was applauded and was received by a few pats on the back. Snape continued to look disinterested.

"Draco Malfoy!" Now there's a name he'd dread hearing almost as much as Harry Potter…almost. Lucius had been fussing over his son's arrival like everyone had been fussing over Potter's. Snape knew as soon as Draco was old enough to go to school, Lucius would never leave him alone. It was hard enough being a spy WITHOUT a member of the Malfoys watching his every move. The hat barely grazed his blonde hair when it screamed out Slytherin. As if anyone had expected anything else out of the death eater's son.

"There's no witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin!" He heard from the crowd of first years. His eyes found a head of astonishingly red hair…another Weasley. Snape's stomach churned. Hopefully this one didn't have the taste for trouble that the twins had possessed, or Gryffindor would find itself loosing a great deal of points this term. It was then Snape noticed for the first time the small boy Weasley was talking to. He had rounded glasses, unruly black hair, and a lightening bolt-shaped scar on his forehead…Harry Potter.

The boy looked awfully small and very curious of his surroundings. He probably thought he'd be running the school, well, being famous and all. Yet, the astonishment and gaping expression he wore didn't really fit the personality of a celebrity…so he'd finally seen him, the one everyone has been going on about, the boy-who-lived.

Speaking of the boy-who-lived, Professor Snape found himself staring into Harry Potter's wide, green eyes. He certainly looked just like his father. Same round face, pale complexion, and odd, lopsided expression…but he had, "His mother's eyes," He found himself saying aloud.

Potter looked afraid for a moment, not having ever seen the dark, greasy, potions master before. Then suddenly, he grabbed his forehead in the place the famous lightning bolt scar was etched into his pale skin, and winced in pain. At that same moment, the dark mark on his forearm began to sting. This was something Snape wasn't prepared for. He wasn't prepared to discover that at every moment he'd had pain connected to the dark lord, Harry, the boy-who-lived, felt the same pain. It caught him off guard and he quickly looked away.

It wasn't until Professor McGonagall called out his name that he looked up again. Potter cautiously stepped forward, carried by a multitude of gasps and whispers. If it was at all possible, he became even paler. Soon, he was sitting in the chair with the sorting hat almost down to his nose. They sat there for a very long time, in silence. However, Snape was the only one that heard the whisper, so quite he had to strain to hear bits and pieces.

"…plenty of courage…mind either…thirst to prove yourself…I put you?"

"Not Slytherin…not Slytherin" Potter mouthed. It would figure. First day here and he was already biased. Only the best for Harry Potter!

"…sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that…no?"

The next thing he heard was the hat shout out Gryffindor. But no one else knew that he was only moments away from being put in the House of Slytherin. Their great Harry Potter. What would they have thought of him then? Now, he was the Gryffindor that would think like a Slytherin. And no one would know. Almost a Slytherin…almost like him.

How? It was supposed to be so easy to hate this young, arrogant, symbol of his oppression…but for the past eleven years, Harry Potter was feeling the same call, the same pain that no one else could understand. That made him all the more real. It made his existence as a young troubled wizard with such a dark past, that no one could even begin to understand the horrors in his life. It made Severus Snape furious. He suddenly found the motivation to hate Harry Potter even more than he could've ever imagined. He could've cared less if he was just James Jr., just another arrogant fool…but to be something unexpected…something talented…something different, it infuriated him.


	3. Clearly Fame ISN’T Everything…

Magic You May Have Missed

Rating: PG-13 Yep, Harry is still 11 and I'm still uncomfortable with 11 year-olds having sex!

Spoilers: Haha…if you've never read the book or seen the movie, I wouldn't suggest reading ANYTHING related to Harry Potter unless it was written by J.K. Rowling. Surely it's common sense.

Disclaimer: This isn't entirely illegal, as I'm not making a profit off of it in anyway. I respect J.K. Rowling and the depths of her imagination so all of the characters belong entirely to her. I just suppose that my imagination is in full swing as well! shrewd grin

Summary: I took the name of my story from a special feature thing in the HP: PoA dvd. Severus hates Harry…actually loathes him entirely. But soon he begins to realize he may have misjudged the situation and perhaps, Harry isn't what he expected.

Chapter 3 – Clearly Fame ISN'T Everything…

Snape threw the door open and stalked silently into the room like a greasy shadow, a permanent scowl etched on his face. Today wasn't going to be a bloody muggle pleasure cruise, by any means. Classes started again, which meant more melting cauldrons, poisonous fumes, deafening explosions…and more migraines. And it just so happened that this was the class that was going to cause him a horrible, unexplainable, painful, wretched demise. If anything, perhaps he'd die dignantily in front of Potter and Malfoy…though he doubted it.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class!" _And thank Merlin, too! _He thought to himself. He'd heard so many horror stories in the staff room that he was taking dreamless sleep potion almost every night. At one point he almost asked Dumbledore if he could force the students to leave their wands at the door, but thought against it. There was always that rare opportunity he'd have to hex one of them…they'd need at least some way to protect themselves.

"As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few…who posses the predisposition I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses." He watched with distinct amusement as Draco perked up…the boy WOULD be just like his father. Just flatter him and you could get away with murder. Then there was always that look that Lucius always gave him that was reflected in his son's eyes at that very moment…the 'come hither because I'm so sexy' look. As if he was impressed.

"I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death." And his students thought he wasn't capable of humor…maybe he would have to go visit Pomfrey. He had been feeling off lately. Or maybe it was because POTTER WASN'T PAYING ATTENTION! Completely arrogant…foolish…prat!

"Then again maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to NOT PAY ATTENTION!" The entire class turned toward the green-eyed monster as he leisurely wrote in his notebook, never glancing up. It wasn't until the Granger girl nudged him that he even flinched. He quickly put his quill away and gathered up a disgustingly innocent stare.

"Mr. Potter. Our new celebrity." It was the second time he'd saw Lily staring back at him. Though he was constantly reminded he was just her son. If Lily were the one he was talking to, she'd be glaring. Probably rolling over in her grave at that exact moment. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harry's blank stare gave him the highest feeling of satisfaction. When he shook his head, Snape found complete inner nirvana.

"You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" The Granger girl's hand shot up and she continued to wave it annoyingly in the air. As if he'd really call on her when he was getting so much pleasure on seeing Potter squirm.

"I don't know, sir." Came the timid reply.

"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Her hand continued its voluntary convulsions.

"I don't know, sir."

"Pity…clearly, fame isn't everything, is it Mr. Potter?"

"Clearly Hermione knows, so it's a pity not to ask her." And there it was, the biting sarcasm that leaked into his genetic make-up, marking him his father's son. The room erupted into giggles.

"Silence." He stared around the room before directing his withering glare at the object of his undoing. He stepped down from his podium and stalked over to the desk at which Potter graced with his presence. Granger's hand was still held high, as if she was under some ridiculous spell. "Put your hand down, you silly girl." He slid a chair to the desk so he was face to face with Potter. He knew he should be mean…he knew he should've hexed the boy into next week. But when he reached the desk and saw what Potter was so distracted by, he felt a pang of guilt. There in tidy scratches was his introductory speech, so carefully written that it gave away how impressed the boy was while he was writing it. Then his teaching instincts kicked on, blast them, and he found it a perfect opportunity to teach his student a few things. At least this way they would be paying attention, all waiting for Potter to combust into flames while Snape danced in the ashes. Besides, it was a pity to see the future so-called savior of the wizarding world…the bloody boy-who-lived, sit there with his mouth agape and dumbfound expression plastered over his face.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the 'Draught of the Living Death'. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying this down?" And so begins a new school year…

"And Gryffindors…note that five points will be taken from your house for your classmate's cheek." There, now it was official. He'd forgotten how good that felt. He gave a wary glace one last time at Harry Potter before he returned to making himself look busy.

A/N: I've decided multiple short chapters are more satisfying than waiting forever for a long chapter…and this has been done for a while but my internet was down. Luckily I revived it so I could update. This story is going to pull scenes from the movie and book and put them in a whole new light that we all wished was there, so look for everything to be familiar. I can say I'm sad I haven't had more reviews, but I won't be ungrateful for those who took the time! Your interest, support, and encouragement means more than words. Thank you.


	4. A Romp in the Dungeons

Magic You May Have Missed

Rating: PG-13 (Harry may be 14 now, but that isn't NEARLY old enough, I'm afraid…)

Spoilers: Haha…if you've never read the book or seen the movie, I wouldn't suggest reading ANYTHING related to Harry Potter unless it was written by J.K. Rowling. Surely it's common sense.

Disclaimer: This isn't entirely illegal, as I'm not making a profit off of it in anyway. I respect J.K. Rowling and the depths of her imagination so all of the characters belong entirely to her. I just suppose that my imagination is in full swing as well! (shrewd grin)

Summary: I took the name of my story from a special feature thing in the HP: PoA dvd. Severus hates Harry…actually loathes him entirely. But soon he begins to realize he may have misjudged the situation and perhaps, Harry isn't what he expected.

A/N: For those of you who were concerned about this story going through every year in great detail, I reassure you that I have neither the patience nor the time to do so! It looked that way for a while there, though, didn't it? Even I was fooled! I was sitting at my computer, writing more and thinking to myself: I'm not going to do like, 4 chapters for every year, am I? I sure hope not… But alas, I reassured myself that I knew what I was doing, so you're all in good hands. Also, I'm sorry for the long update AND the not so long chapter, but these things can't be rushed! I moved and it's taken a while to get settled in and the internet up…but I hope you got joy out of that one-shot I wrote. If not, go check it out. I'm surpised, actually, by people's lack of interest in it.

Chapter 4 – A Romp In The Dungeons

The school year continued to drag on quite normally, or as normal as things could get when you hand eleven-year-olds wands, chemicals, and broomsticks. Harry Potter had managed to avoid his greasy git of a potions professor and stare oddly and suspiciously at him from afar. And Severus didn't mind because he had more things to worry about, like saving the lives of his students whenever Neville Longbottom walked into his classroom. The walking disaster was almost too much to bear sometimes, and his nerves were quickly fraying.

Yet, even though he tried to avoid Potter, there still managed to be a few upsetting and awkward moments between the two. Like when he had been leaving the Great Hall and told Harry good luck in the next Quidditch match. Of course, he quickly recovered himself and said something about him needing it against Slytherin, but it didn't stop him from being equally horrified. Then there was the little misunderstanding about Harry believing it was Snape trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone and spreading rumors about him. Every time Snape even _looked_ in his general direction he was greeted with a glare to rival his own that practically dripped with accusations. Well, you could just imagine how stunned Harry Potter was to learn that the mean, greasy, git of a professor was actually SAVING his life. Though quite often he was tempted to just let Quirrell have his way with him and let it be over with, but as much as he'd LOVE to see Voldermort back, he decided against it.

So things simmered down eventually and the days drug on once more. Soon days turned into weeks, then into months, and then years. Before he knew it, Ha-Potter's third year was wrapping up. And Snape was trying to get over the humiliation that was Lupin and his boggart lesson and redeem himself. To do this he absolutely knew that he would have to be the one to catch Sirius Black lurking about, trying to kill the insolent brat. Once again, he was faced with the decision on whether or not to just let Black have his way with him. But he, once again, decided to save the brat and reasoned that the satisfaction of leaving Black with his mission unfulfilled was far greater than the death of one Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World.

And when he finally followed Lupin into the tunnels of the Shrieking Shack, where the elder Potter had saved his life long ago, he felt a foreboding sense of danger. He just wanted to go and simply catch Black, let the dementors have him, and then go smirking about the castle, simple as that…but anything dealing with Potter never really turned out 'simple'. So when Potter blasted him unconscious and let Black get away, he shouldn't have been surprised. Nor angry, self-loathing, desperate, or frustrated.

He had actually expected, no, KNOWN something like that was going to happen, though. Not that he was a seer. He laughed at the idea of fortune telling with Trelawney, both avidly discussing ways Harry would die, over a cup of tea. If there was one other person that got a great rise over Harry's sudden demise, it was her. In fact, she casually mentioned it on a daily basis. Of course, she felt pity where Snape felt only anticipation.

Don't get him wrong, Harry had almost died plenty of times…but then that stupid, bloody wizard's debt flashed in his head and he felt compelled to save the boy. He tried to make excuses for his actions, but they sounded lame, even to him. After he lost count of the displays of stupidity, he decided that should protect him from being banished to the most inner circle of Hell when he died.

Snape sighed loudly into his empty classroom and rubbed his temples furiously, trying to get rid of the headache that was seeping through his skull. It was now Harry's first week of his fourth year and he'd already managed to irritate him. And Potter thought he would get away with throwing victorious smirks at him, but his professor retaliated by giving him detention chopping ingredients and squeezing the juice out of all sorts of the most horrid things Snape could think of. After a few more minutes, he started to get restless…where was that boy? Didn't he know if he wasn't here in the next MINUTE he would be late? Of course, just then, a flash of fire appeared in front of him and a phoenix feather and piece of parchment fell on his desk.

Dear Severus,

You'll have to excuse Harry his detention, though I know how much he was looking forward to the tub of bubotuber pus that was no doubtedly awaiting him. He and I have some matters to discuss. Perhaps you would be up to rescheduling?

Albus

Snape crumpled the note in fury, held the tip of his wand to it, and watch it explode and fall to the ground in a shower of ash. "BLOODY, INSOLENT, UNBEARABLE, PRAT OF BOY! GETS OUT OF ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING! I HATE HARRY POTTER, THE MOST VILE LITTLE CREATURE TO WALK THIS EARTH! DAMN HIM!" After realizing that neither his destruction of the letter or his screaming was doing him any sort of satisfaction, he simply stalked away. A few of the portraits snickered at him, but he only responded by stomping even harder, leaving a billow of robes in his wake.


	5. A Different Thirsty

Chapter 5 – A Different Thirsty

Magic You May Have Missed

Rating: PG-13 (Yeah yeah…)

Spoilers: Haha…if you've never read the book or seen the movie, I wouldn't suggest reading ANYTHING related to Harry Potter unless it was written by J.K. Rowling. Surely it's common sense.

Disclaimer: This isn't entirely illegal, as I'm not making a profit off of it in anyway. I respect J.K. Rowling and the depths of her imagination so all of the characters belong entirely to her. I just suppose that my imagination is in full swing as well! (shrewd grin)

Summary: I took the name of my story from a special feature thing in the HP: PoA dvd. Severus hates Harry…actually loathes him entirely. But soon he begins to realize he may have misjudged the situation and perhaps, Harry isn't what he expected.

A/N: I know the story says angst…and here you are. The next few chapters are just chalk full of it! I'm a sadist, what can I say?

So it had finally come…the dark lord rises once again and who should be witness but Potter? How could anyone have expected any less? Snape had seen the whole thing coming from a mile away. He was left to himself, to watch as the mark on his arm grew darker and deeper, reburning into his thoughts. The whisper always followed him like a smoky shadow and he was sure that anyone who looked at him would know what lay under his careful layers of robes. And no one could understand…could realize what fates await the spy/death eater. Well, no one but Potter, perhaps. For he'd been there, face to face with the monster many times and lived to tell about it. Because that's what he was there for…to always live to tell about it. He wasn't the boy-who-lived for nothing. But Snape would never pity him for that. Nor would he feel sorry for him. Because no one could ever feel sorry for Snape. And too many people already felt sorry for Potter.

Snape, who risks just as much in this upcoming war as anyone. He would be even more active, even more of a vital role, than anyone could know. Snape, who everyone hated because of his unyielding hatred toward a certain proclaimed savior. And then Potter. When Albus had told Snape of the boy's relatives, it took every ounce of self control that Snape had to keep himself from looking surprised. Not what he wanted…never what he wanted. Yet, there was Potter, always trying to be what everyone else needed. And Snape wouldn't forgive him for that, for hiding Harry.

But he was especially unyielding to Potter now that he was lying in a bed in the infirmary, resting after his trying year. Letting the memories of what he'd seen fade away with the potions running through his veins. And Snape had snuck in at the dead of night, just to watch. Just to satisfy some sick curiosity. The boy twitched in his sleep, as if he could feel the dark eyes on him, sizing him up like some sort of experiment gone wrong. However, he never woke and Snape was sure that if he did, he was likely to go into shock from seeing his least favorite person (aside from Voldermort) staring at him while he was sleeping.

And while those emerald eyes weren't glaring back at him, he didn't feel the need to glare in the first place. Even in sleep the boy seemed restless, troubled, small…Harry Potter, the boy-he-never-expected. It angered Snape…made him hate the pale form just the same. Hated him because he'd seen horrible things, hated him because he'd never had the option of a normal life, hated him because he never wanted the scar, because he wasn't spoiled, because he was worthy of worship, because he wasn't his father, because he was modest, and he hated him most of all because he would never give up, even if it was just him, Voldermort, and all the death eaters in the end. It was the courage that Snape himself had never had.

With a heavy sigh, he stood and made for the door.

"I don't know what you're playing at…couldn't do it, or what?"

Snape didn't turn around. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know what you are Snape. Come here to kill me?" There was venom in that voice that made Snape smirk. Of course that's what Potter would think because he could never trust a greasy-git, no matter what Dumbledore said.

"I was merely keeping watch to make sure no one _else_ got that idea." He was still facing the door, his mild amusement completely unnoticed by the boy, now sitting up, on the bed.

"You mean like one of your Slytherins? I'll bet they're all lined up to finally serve their lord. How many do you think are carrying the mark now? They always did do everything you told them to. Now he's branding them like cattle. Well, you know what? They're going to die like cattle."

All amusement fell from his face as he spun around and leveled Potter with a glare. "Careful, Potter."

"Why, are you going to give me detention?" His voice dripped with sarcasm and an unspoken challenge.

Snape flew forward and pinned Harry against the headboard, his crooked nose mere inches away from his face. "You may think you have the entire wizarding world eating out of the palm of your hand, but I am not. I'm still your professor and I demand respect, especially from a pathetic little whelp like you!" The boy's breath caught in his throat as he realized that he'd just smarted off to one of the most feared men in Hogwarts…a man that could breakdown a member of the ministry in a single glare. "Tell me, what do you plan to do with the rest of your life? Or perhaps you haven't thought of it because you know what everyone is saying…that you won't make it past the final battle. I, of course, don't believe that. You won't make it to SEE the final battle because one day your courageous stupidity will get you in so deep that no one will be there to help you dig yourself out. That's all you're here for, really. For people to believe in something to make themselves feel better. We both know the truth. You'd be nothing without that scar. No one would be impressed by a less-than-average boy. Because that's all you really are…"

Severus watched as Harry's face became void of anything and shrank away from him, a broken empty shell. Watched as Harry came to terms with truths he'd never been told…truths he refused to admit. And Snape stepped back, a smirk of triumph on his face, like he knew all along that Harry wasn't worth it. Victory should've been sweet, but it too felt as hollow as the green eyes staring up at him. Those eyes that kept staring, unblinking, unmoving, still void of anything. Even anger. Even pain. Even fear. Even defiance. He just sat there and it became unnerving. As Snape turned and stomped away, he could feel the eyes bore a hole into the back of his head. What had he done?


	6. All Summer

Chapter 6 – All Summer

Magic You May Have Missed

Rating: PG-13 (Yeah yeah…)

Spoilers: Haha…if you've never read the book or seen the movie, I wouldn't suggest reading ANYTHING related to Harry Potter unless it was written by J.K. Rowling. Surely it's common sense.

Disclaimer: This isn't entirely illegal, as I'm not making a profit off of it in anyway. I respect J.K. Rowling and the depths of her imagination so all of the characters belong entirely to her. I just suppose that my imagination is in full swing as well! (shrewd grin)

Summary: I took the name of my story from a special feature thing in the HP: PoA dvd. Severus hates Harry…actually loathes him entirely. But soon he begins to realize he may have misjudged the situation and perhaps, Harry isn't what he expected.

A/N: Ok, this chapter is short, but I had a brain fart and this was all I could get out. (It's all that blasted homework, I swear) But this is setting up to where Snape will eventually make more realizations. He'll discover the fine line between love and hate.

What had he done indeed. He hadn't seen the Potter brat in months, but still he saw those empty green eyes. They plagued his visions and dreams. Sometimes they would stare at him from a table in his classroom. Other times they would watch him from darkened corners of corridors. But more often, they were there when he slept. Always just lying there, in a field of blood stained grass, staring up at him with the same lifeless expression. And after those dreams is when his mark burned brighter than ever, until the pain had him heaving onto his concrete floor.

All of the joy he felt only months ago about ridding himself of Ha-POTTER!-was gone. Sure he hated the boy with all of his being, but that apparently didn't mean he wanted to see him dead. And the realization hit Snape when he was sleeping in his chair in front of a fire. A particularly terrifying nightmare had Snape scream out in his sleep and wake up with tears streaming down his face. Severus Snape had cried because of a dream. A dream about Harry Potter. A dream where Harry Potter was writhing in pain and crying out to his parents. Crying out for his mother and father, crying for them to make the pain go away. Did he think it was his fault Potter was without his parents? No. Snape did not think himself so arrogant as to believe it was his fault Lily and James Potter met an untimely demise. The only proverbial blood that stained his hands was that of which he'd spilt himself.

But why, then, did this dream cause him so much distress? It was because it was Snape that was laying curse after curse on the dying boy. It was him with a satisfied smirk on his face while Tom Riddle stroked his cheek and whispered sweet nothings into his ear, whispered how proud he was and how Snape was such a good little death eater to serve his master so. It made Snape violently ill to his stomach to think of the Dark Lord's hands on his body. It made Snape want to kill the bastard with his bare hands. It made Snape want to march over to Potter's relatives' house in the middle of the night, drag him to the Riddle Mansion, and fight along side of him until they killed him. Then he would sleep for days knowing it was all over. And therein lies the reason Professor Severus Snape didn't want Harry Potter to die.


	7. Compelled

Magic You May Have Missed

Rating: PG-13 (Yeah yeah…)

Spoilers: Haha…if you've never read the book or seen the movie, I wouldn't suggest reading ANYTHING related to Harry Potter unless it was written by J.K. Rowling. Surely it's common sense.

Disclaimer: This isn't entirely illegal, as I'm not making a profit off of it in anyway. I respect J.K. Rowling and the depths of her imagination so all of the characters belong entirely to her. I just suppose that my imagination is in full swing as well! -shrewd grin-

Summary: I took the name of my story from a special feature thing in the HP: PoA dvd. Severus hates Harry…actually loathes him entirely. But soon he begins to realize he may have misjudged the situation and perhaps, Harry isn't what he expected. This isn't original, yeah I know…I didn't mean for it to be…so kiss my round, native american, arse.

A/N: I've seen that some reviewers have expressed concern that not only is my story lacking uniquity, but I'm making up words as well. Proof:

Seer – 1 a person who sees 2 a person with the supposed power to foretell events or a person's destiny; prophet (cited from the 4th edition of Websters New World Dictionary)

As for the other claims? I do believe that many of the words in our English language have been "made up" or derived from other words at some point in time. In fact, some of the greatest authors ever, such as E. A. Poe made up MANY words. Tintinnabulation was a word that described the sound of bells. After he used it, suddenly people accepted it as an actual word. Meaning, creativity comes in many shapes and forms and, silly me, I thought that reviews were for encouragement of such. Oh, and someone better call J.K. Rowling and tell her that her novels suck because she makes up words. I mean, muggles? Cruccio? Avada Kedavra? Accio! APPARATING! They interrupt the "flow" of the story. (please note my sarcasm…aren't these words we've all come to understand and use in everyday life what MAKE the Harry Potter stories?)

This leads me to another concern…that my story is nothing more than recycled canon plots. What I'm doing is hardly such. I've always believed that recyled canon plots end after only a few chapters and leave me feeling, what's the word? Bored. In many other stories the author uses the familiarity of the books to set the mood, while adding a twist. When the moment is just right, the point emerges, bringing proof to the phrase patience is virtue. And I do believe I stated somewhere that you should all look for every thing to be a bit familiar! How much more clearer do I have to make it? "Hey! I'm feeling a bit unoriginal so I'm just going to start out using JK Rowling's ideas! Thanks for rubbing it in my face!"

How is it one knows how I should be writing my story? I'm a long way from finishing, so there's obviously a lot of room for growth. And perhaps my "non-words" are relavant in the long run. I really don't want to post anymore in the subject of where I'm going with the whole plot because it would ruin it for my readers (and KIND reviewers, I love you all so).

After the crude anonymous review I've received, I'm considering blocking all unsigned users from reviewing. If you're going to critize without knowing where I'm going with this…I want to see some credientials. In my own personal opinion, an anonymous review shows that the reviewer has no experience or background in this particular fandom. The word that comes to mind is fraudulence. I'm sorry if I'm being harsh, but I felt the sudden need to defend myself. Also, because I respect the policy for no author's note postings, I wrote a chapter that feels a bit more like where I'm going with it.

Chapter 7 – Compelled

Once again, in trouble…damn brat. Those stupid visions kept coming because he couldn't stand to listen to Severus. Couldn't STAND to be in the same room with him. Yet it still wasn't enough to keep the insatiably curious brat away from his pensive! Snape didn't know which horrified him more: The thought that Harry would laugh at what he'd seen or that he'd pity him…and while he stood there, in his own memory, watching the boy whose eyes were glued to his lanky form, Severus's heart broke. All of the walls he kept around him came crashing down and he was angry. No, angry was an understatement. His defenses were gone and he was vaunerable…yes, he was irate. And he took it out on the savior again. Only this time, the green swam with emotion and took the older man's fury with a grain of salt. Snape didn't know which horrified him more.

"Having fun?" Of course he was. The boy was obtaining years of blackmail material in just a few minutes time. All of his hopes and dreams were falling into place around him. He didn't have to listen to the snarky bastard any more because his foolish courage finally paid off in his favor.

And Snape suddenly didn't care. Frankly, he was just glad Harry Potter was back (He MUST be ill again. It was of course flu season…all year round apparently). The boy that Snape had left in the infirmirary was no more a boy than an empty suitcase was. But through all his teenage angst, he was able to bounce back. Back with a vengance, hating his professor even more than before. And with that hatred, the Occulumancy lessons stopped and Potter was even more vaunerable than ever and didn't even know it.

So the darkest bastard to ever grace this ungodly pathetic earth exploited it to the furthest extent. So naturally, when Potter saw his dogfather being tortured in the ministry, he reacted foolishly. It was pathetic enough he'd tried to tell someone about his dream when everyone already thought he was crazy…but then he'd tried to convince Snape to save a man that had acted as the bane of his existance for years. Snape did the only thing he saw fit: blew him off and went back to his dungons to gloat. Then mid-gloat, he remembered empty Harry. If the boy lost the only thing to a parent he'd ever had, there was no doubt that he'd come back. Not even Snape could handle that. Who would kill Voldermort?

So he flooed to 12 Grimmauld place to warn somebody. Anybody. When he ran straight into Black himself, eyes heavy with exaustion. His hair was a little more mattered than Snape had remembered and skin a bit paler than it had been lately. The man was clearly wearing thin.

"Snape! What are you doing here?"

"I suppose I should ask you the same thing."

"I live here…"

"Oh, and this isn't the behavior of two old enemies? Just stopping by for a chat? No? Then I guess I should warn you that Potter believes you've been…captured…by the enemy."

"What?"

"He had a vision, I suppose. Similar to the one with Weasley. But you're obviously not being killed, are you?"

"Where is he now?"

"Probably heading straight toward the ministry to launch some ridiculous rescue mission, no doubt."

"But…why would he have a vision if I'm not in danger?"

"You really are incapable of any type of thought process, aren't you? Honestly, Black, it's obviously a trap. And it seems to be working, doesn't it?"

"YOU-Why didn't you stop him!"

"Now stop and think for a moment…what would my Slytherins say if I was helping the Golden Boy? Running after him with the intention to protect him? My entire status would be compromised!"

"You could've given him some sort of signal!"

"The boy's just as dense as you are…he would've never taken a hint. Let alone listen to me!"

"If it is a trap, I have to save him!"

'Uh oh…that's not what I wanted to happen…I wanted him to call for help, not BE help.' Snape rolled his eyes.

"You're not supposed to leave headquarters."

"Harry's life is in danger and you're worried about that? Snape, I know you're a prickly bastard with no feelings whatsoever, but I love Harry and I don't intend to-"

"Don't you see that's part of his plan! If you leave you're playing into his hand, you imbecile!"

"If Harry were here, he'd agree with me! He'd want me to rescue him!"

"No he wouldn't!"

"How would you know!"

"BECAUSE HE'S NOT HIS FATHER!" They both looked shocked. It was one fact they'd both failed to over look. "He's not James Potter. He isn't a sarcastic bully who lives for the opposite sex. I know how much you want him to be little James, but guess what? He's not. He's Harry Potter…the boy who bloody lived. Hell, it'd be easier if he WAS James Potter because then the two of you could muck it up and we'd all die horrible deaths, but this is more important than what we want. This goes beyond your selfish existance and for once, grow up and start thinking ahead!"

"I-" He opened his mouth as if to say something in his defense, but closed it again because no case was arguable against what had just been said. It was the truth. Then, something happened in that moment that had never happened before. Something that would put both characters into shock for years to come. Something that they'd both deny ever happening…

"You're right…"

A/N: Haha…I'm gonna just leave it right there, I think. This is how I deal with my anger…humor! Yay! And I'll be keeping Sirius because frankly, I just like his character. So all Mr. Snuffles fans may begin praise. The next chapter will be up as soon as possible since I'm also trying to write a paper. I just had this idea and had to write it out in chapter format or I'd never finish it.


	8. Excuses Exshmuses

Chapter 8 – Excuses Exshmuses

Magic You May Have Missed

Rating: T (Oooo?)

Spoilers: Haha…if you've never read the book or seen the movie, I wouldn't suggest reading ANYTHING related to Harry Potter unless it was written by J.K. Rowling. Surely it's common sense.

Disclaimer: This isn't entirely illegal, as I'm not making a profit off of it in anyway. I respect J.K. Rowling and the depths of her imagination so all of the characters belong entirely to her. I just suppose that my imagination is in full swing as well! (shrewd grin)

Summary: I took the name of my story from a special feature thing in the HP: PoA dvd. Severus hates Harry…actually loathes him entirely. But soon he begins to realize he may have misjudged the situation and perhaps, Harry isn't what he expected.

A/N: Woah! I got creative! Everyone watch out…now it's time the point emerges. Silly, disbelieving reviewers. I love you all…even the slightly misguided ones.

How had he missed it? All these years Severus Snape hated Harry Potter for one reason: He looked like James Potter. And the one reason that Sirius Black loved Harry Potter? He looked like James Potter. And the realization made him laugh out into the harsh silence. Sirius just fell back into a ragged chair and put his head in his hands. Snape took the moment to really look at the Marauder. Those years in Azkaban hadn't been good on him. Black was just as worn as that chair, as this room, as this house. He'd become exactally what his pureblood name entailed. Defeated, worn, mad, and useless. Like Bellatrix was, locked up in Azkaban, shrieking that someday her master would return. But Sirius had no master. He couldn't even answer to himself.

Just then the dark mark on Severus's arm flared and a wave of pain washed over his body. His stance faltered and he reflexively brought his right arm up to claw at the burning skin through his robes. He was being summoned. How could he be expected to fight in this war? Especially against the light! He let out a growl of irritation and Sirius looked up from his hands.

"What?"

"I'm being…called."

"To where? The mansion?"

"The Ministry, more than likely."

"But if you go, then-"

"I'll be expected to fight…against that insolent brat."

"Surely you aren't going to listen!"

Severus sighed. If he didn't go, the Dark Lord would be furious. He may be punished worse than the time he ignored the first summoning on the night of the final task in the Tri-Wizardry tournament. He may even be facing death, but he was the only spy into the Order that Voldermort had. If he did go, however, he'd risk losing everything he'd worked so hard for. He'd lose everyone's trust and there was no way he could explain his way out of it this time.

"Contact someone, anyone…get help. As soon as I leave."

"No! Snape, you bastard! You're not going to be the cause of sorrow tonight! I forbid it."

Snape sneered. "Really? And without a wand, how do you plan on stopping me?" After a moment of silence and Sirius looking defeated, Snape laughed. "That's what I thought."

He turned, searching for the floo powder, just as Sirius launched himself at the professor. The ex-death eater was so surprised, he fell to the ground, his wand flying from his grip and rolling to the other side of the room.

"Unhand me, Black!" Snape spat.

"No! This is for everyone's safety. You will not run to your dark lord's aid tonight." He hoisted the taller man up and threw him into a chair, tying him down with rope that Snape never saw him grab.

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING? YOU'RE RISKING EVERYTHING, YOU DUNDERHEAD!" The potions professor thrashed against his bonds then paused and looked around. "Accio wand!"

Sirius grabbed it in mid-air. "Oh no you don't…besides. Now you have an excuse for not showing up!" He grinned and ran over to the fireplace, but not before he locked Snape's wand up. He grabbed a handful of floo powder from atop the mantel and threw it into the barren grate. "Headmistress Minerva McGonagall!"

A few seconds later, McGonagall's head appeared into the green flames. "What is it!" She asked irritably. "What could be so important? Sirius, you know quite well how dangerous this is!"

"Harry's in trouble, Minerva! He had a dream about me at the ministry, that I was captured by Voldermort! You need to find him before he does anything-"

"STUPID!" Snape shouted in the background.

"-Rash." Sirius continued.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Sirius, is that Professor Snape?"

"Of course not! It's…some other greasy haired bat with a horribly raspy voice. I always tell them that smoking pipe weed does a horrible number on their throats, but-"

"I DO NOT SMOKE PIPE WEED, YOU FLEA BITTEN WASTE OF SPACE!"

"Untie him! I'm disappointed in you, Black."

"I can't! He's been summoned and I won't untie him until I know Harry is safe!"

"If Harry is in danger, with Severus there he'll have an ally!"

"But-" Before he could protest, McGonagall's head turned around and then disappeared from the flames. "Minerva? Damn!"

He turned to Snape, who was still struggling, wildly against his bonds. Sirius just watched him for a minute, then sat back down on the couch he was sitting in before Snape had burst through his fireplace.

"What now, all great Gryffindor?"

The last of the proud Black family just stared down at the worn floorboards, a reminiscent expression in his eyes. "How could this have happened? It seems just yesterday we were all carefree and worrying about our N.E.W.T.s. What went wrong, Snape?"

"How should I know? I don't remember any days of carefree bliss, or any other such nonsense."

"Surely, before your death eater days-"

"Before my death eater days I was at Hogwarts!"

"Exactly, when-"

"I NEVER HAD A MOMENT TO RELAX OR BE CAREFREE! Around every corner I turned awaited the all mighty Marauders, a hex or curse on their lips before I had a chance to collect myself! Ever wonder why I learned everything I knew? How I got the talent to be a spy? Or why I joined the dark lord in the first place? It was because I always had to be on guard for the four of you!"

"Oh please! That was years ago! You were a bloody, snarky git before we laid a finger on you! Plus you were in Slytherin! What were we supposed to think? Besides, you hated us because we were Gryffindors, passed judgement just like everyone else!"

"No I did not! I went there to learn! I wanted to be a Potions Master from day one, you imbecile! I could've cared less who anyone was or given a damn about the war! I just wanted people to respect me for once in my life! But with the four of you there, everyone hated me! The dark forces fed off of my despair and hatred. They seduced me into joining them with promises of acceptance and the very means I needed to achieve my dreams. However, the dark lord is not one to keep his promises and one stupid decision I made when I was young will haunt me the rest of my life!" By the time he was finished, Snape was red in the face and had spittle all over his face. Very unbecoming and pathetic, but there was nothing he could do about it except look indifferent, as usual. This night would surely require years of self-loathing and many bottles of firewhisky to help him forget what had just happened.

"…sorry." The mutt mumbled, his rugged features twinged with shame.

"Sorry doesn't fix the past." The silence that followed was deafening, the air thick with spite and remorse. Their ears twitched, listening for the words that were caught in each other's throats, stopping them from saying anything that came out their mouths before it reached their brains. The only sound in the room came from Snape attempting once more, in vain, to free himself from the antique chair. They sat there like that for what seemed like hours. Then McGonagall's head re-appeared in the fireplace.

"Sirius?"

He jumped off the couch and ran to the flames. "Yes? What happened? Is Harry safe?"

"Mr. Potter is okay. Albus and the Order found him at the Ministry with a bunch of students! They said they were rescuing you, but they're just lucky to be alive!"

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Tonks was slightly injured, and some of the students are dazed, but that was all on our side. A few deatheaters fell, but I don't know who yet. Professor Dumbledore should be there shortly to tell you. The Ministry is in an uproar, though. They finally got their proof that Voldemort is back! I need to go restore order in the common rooms. Oh and Sirius?"

"Yes Minerva?"

"Untie Severus."

Sirius blushed as her face disappeared. He turned around to see Snape smirking at him. "If I untie you, do you promise not to hex me?"

"Yes, Black, I promise not to _hex_ you." Sirius untied the ropes and just as the last knot fell to the floor, Snape jumped out and threw his hands around the short man's neck.

"But-you-promised!" He managed to choke out.

"I PROMISED NOT TO HEX YOU! STRANGLING YOU, HOWEVER, IS STILL AN OPTION!"

As the two men were trying to throttle each other, Dumbledore walked out of the fireplace looking extremely worn out.

"Boys! Boys, please. I've seen enough fighting for tonight, I believe." They immediately stopped fighting, both looking indignant.

"Sorry sir, he attacked me." Snape sneered.

"I attacked you! You're the one who started choking me!"

"Oh, and I supposed I got up, threw myself in the chair, and tied MYSELF down?"

"You were going to-"

"QUIET! Now, it's been a long day and I'd love to get this matter cleared up so I can have a hot cup of tea and get to bed. I am rather exhausted."

"Dumbledore, what happened? How's Harry?"

"Mr. Potter is fine. He acted very bravely with the intent of saving you, Sirius. It was a trap, of course. But it's a funny thing, love. It impairs even our best judgement."

"He will be punished, of course?" Snape questioned, his eagerness all too evident.

"Can it, you! Minerva said something about the Ministry."

"Ah, yes. They've finally discovered what I've been telling them for about a year now. Voldemort is indeed back. Fudge himself even apologized, though I daresay he was a bit befuddled at what to do about the whole situation. I could imagine it would be embarrassing to have him right there under your nose and be ignorant about it the whole time. No matter, we all make mistakes. Even I misread things. Though I hope a few fears are put to rest with the death of one of Voldemort's very important servants and another captured."

"Death?" Snape asked, incredulously.

"Bellatrix died. She was killed by young Harry Potter himself. He pushed her, unknowingly, through a veil at the Department of Mysteries. That was right before he caught Peter Pettigrew in a full body bind."

"He killed Lestrange and captured Wormtail?" Both of the younger men were in disbelief.

"As I said before, Harry acted very bravely. We're already one step closer to weakening Voldemort completely."

"Wormtail is in custody?" Sirius asked again, shocked.

"Yes he is, Sirius. The Ministry got him to confess to the betrayal of the Potters. And since no crime was committed, you are a freed man."

A/N: Yeah, I let him have his freedom. The point to this chapter will emerge in the next chapter, that I will finish writing tonight, since I have nothing better to do. And this is kinda long. I hope you all enjoyed it. If not, then piss off. Ta.


	9. We All Dream

Chapter 9 – We All Dream

Magic You May Have Missed

Rating: T (Oooo?)

Spoilers: Haha…if you've never read the book or seen the movie, I wouldn't suggest reading ANYTHING related to Harry Potter unless it was written by J.K. Rowling. Surely it's common sense.

Disclaimer: Since I take no credit for any of the characters, place, events, or made up words, and bestow that honor upon J.K. Rowling, I should not be sued.

Summary: I took the name of my story from a special feature thing in the HP: PoA dvd. Severus hates Harry…actually loathes him entirely. But soon he begins to realize he may have misjudged the situation and perhaps, Harry isn't what he expected. And, he's not…FALLING for the ignorant boy, is he? Blast and damn!

A/N: Sorry if the following chapter doesn't really make any sense or has a lot of spelling errors, but I was completely tossed when I wrote it. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it. Oh, and this story is far from over. And yeah, yeah…I know my last chapter said I would finish that night, but things came up and for that, I apologize. Now forward on!

XXXXXXX

"Free? Blast and damn!" Snape was immediately upset.

"You mean I can go out in the open? I can come to Quidditch games? HARRY CAN COME LIVE WITH ME?"

With out waiting for the Headmaster's reply, Snape stomped over to the fireplace, threw a handful of floo powder down, bellowed out the destination of his office, and disappeared from 12 Grimmuald Place. He landed loudly on the dungeon floor and made his way to his private chambers, fuming. How could this be happening? His enemy was getting everything he wanted, while Snape's life was getting more and more complicated. Not only was Black free, but now Snape had to go to Voldemort and explain why he'd lost two of his faithful servants and why his pet potions master wasn't there helping out, which was not good. It was not good at all.

Snape didn't really want to die. Of course he'd sacrifice himself for the right reasons, but he quite enjoyed his simple life teaching students, attending, Merlin help him, staff meetings, reading by the fire, experimenting with his potions, and enjoying a glass of firewhisky or two. Sure, sometimes he got lonely, but thems the risk, right? Sometimes you have to sacrifice something to have anything. Harry Potter understood that…

Potter…now he REALLY needed a drink. "Accio firewhisky." His cupboard flew open and the bottle came as it was called. Only one fourth of it was full, so he wouldn't get so drunk he'd do something stupid, but he'd certainly feel a lot better with its sweet relief running through his veins. After he finished that bottle, and another bottle he found opened in the back of the cupboard, he passed out into a drunken slumber on his couch, inducing a night of interesting dreams.

XXXXXXX

_Snape leaned lightly against the side of the castle. He wrapped his heavy cloak further around him for warmth while he looked over the grounds. It was completely beautiful, Hogwarts. Especially in the fall. When he was a student, he'd sit by a tree near the lake and stare out into the glassy surface, black in the night. Occasionally, a tentacle of the giant squid would break the surface tension and wave about before disappearing into the fathomless depths._

_For now, escaping to get a breath of fresh air was his top priority, then it was back down to his dungeons to check the potion he had simmering. He was just about to turn around when many voices caught his ear. It was the students' weekend to Hogsmead. He chose to stay put, cursing his luck for almost being surrounded by laughter and handholding. He shivered, and not because of the cold either._

_"Now remember, these visits to Hogsmead village are a privilege. Should you behavior reflect poorly on the school in anyway, that privilege shall not be extended again. No permission slip signed, no visiting the village, that's the rule, Potter."_

_"All those with permission follow me. Those with out, stay put." Snape smiled. Poor little Potter, unable to go gallivanting off with his little friends to waste money on candy and toys. Filch was ecstatic, he'd also disliked the boy since second year when his cat was petrified and he thought it was the brat who did it._

_"But professor! I thought if you signed it, then I could go."_

_"I can't. Only a parent or a guardian can sign. Since I am neither, it would be inappropriate. I'm sorry Potter. That's my final word." Snape smirked. He'd signed a few of his Slytherins' forms. That must be completely unfair. Oh well. He peaked around the corner to see the mass of students disappearing, and Harry standing still, watching them leave in disbelief. It was strictly curiosity, he told himself, that kept him watching the boy for a few minutes afterward. And it was curiosity that caused him to think, "Potions be damned," and follow the boy. To his surprise, Potter went down to the lakeshore and sat under the very tree Snape used to sit beneath. He began to mumble to himself, something that Snape couldn't hear. So he snuck behind the tree Harry sat at. It was then he realized the boy was singing to himself._

_"Pretty dreams, my baby wait. Just beyond the slumber gate. Come, dreams. Come to baby, come. Come, dreams. Come to baby, come. Day is done and night is near. Off to sleep, now baby dear. Come, dreams. Come to baby, come. Come, dreams. Come to baby come. Weary you must be with play. Running, running, all the day. Come dreams. Come to baby come. Come, dreams. Come to baby, come. Now it's time for you to sleep. Hush, now, baby, not a peep. Come, dreams. Come to baby, come. Come, dreams. Come to baby, come. Big and strong you're sure to grow. If to sleep you'll quickly go. Come, dreams. Come to baby, come. Come, dreams. Come to baby, come…"_

_He now knew why he'd never heard Potter sing. The boy was terrible at it. If anything, he'd scare off any creature within hearing distance. It was then he decided to confront the boy._

_"Potter! What are you doing out here?"_

_He jumped up quickly, almost loosing his balance, but steadied himself against the tree. "Professor! I was just…hey, it's not against the rules, so I'm not in trouble!"_

_"What was that you were singing?"_

_"Uh…just a song."_

_"If it was just a song, then why are you crying?"_

_Green eyes glared up at him. "I'm not crying!"_

_"Suite yourself." He just stood there, looking out over the lake._

_"What do you want?" The boy demanded._

_"I was just walking and I heard your…less than wonderful voice and decided to come investigate. At first I thought it was a dying animal, then I saw that wild head of hair and I knew that I guessed close enough. It soothes me to know there's something else the boy wonder's lousy at other than potions."_

_"If you're going to insult me, than I'm going to leave."_

_"Now, I'm sure that I got that out of my system, so I'm sufficed to say you are in no immediate danger of getting your feelings hurt anymore. Why aren't you at Hogsmead?"_

_"That's none of your business!"_

_"Fine, fine! Guarded, aren't we, Potter?"_

_"That's rich, coming from you. I'd doubt anyone even knows your birthday!"_

_"I'd doubt anyone even knows your birthday, _sir_! Need I remind you whom it is you're talking to? I'm not above giving detentions on a Saturday, so I'd watch your cheek."_

_Harry scoffed and turned to leave._

_"Dumbledore."_

_The green-eyed boy stopped and turned around. "What was that, sir?"_

_"Dumbledore knows my birthday. Every year he gives me a box of horrible candy and packets of caramel flavored tea…and a journal to '_keep all of my deepest feelings and emotions fresh'_. Old fool." He said, almost affectionately. Harry had never heard anything affectionately or otherwise come out of his professor's mouth, so he just stood there as Snape brushed by him and disappeared into the forest._

XXXXXXX

Snape sat up on the couch, knocking over the empty bottles as he did so. After looking wildly around the rooms to ensure it was just a dream, he fell back into the couch and resumed his slumber.

XXXXXXX

_This time he was in the castle and he was cornering the boy-who-was-a-pain-in-his-side to ruin the boy's day._

_"Potter! Get in here, I have a few…questions to ask you!"_

_He swept into his supply room. It was small, he'd been thinking of renaming it his potion cupboard, though it made him claustrophobic enough as it was. Standing, two people barely fit in it comfortably, but the ceiling receded up quite far and a ladder was stationed in the center of the "closet" so there were hundreds of bottles along the walls. Hundreds of bottles for hundreds of insolent brats to get their hands on. Or perhaps just one brat in particular._

_Harry entered cautiously, surveying his new surroundings with…anticipation? No, no…dream Harry is terrified, yes. That's right. Distrusting, nervous, suspicious, and terrified. Once he was in the closet-ROOM! -Snape shut the door behind him, trapping them in the circular room with a radius of a good four feet. Snape ascended the ladder quickly, scanning the shelves until he found what he was looking for._

_"Ah yes, here it is. I saved something for you, Potter. But I'm sure you already have this in your possession. In any case, it'll be worth a…fortune…after your untimely demise I'm sure." Snape sneered. He descended the ladder and turned to reveal a copy of _Witch Weekly_. A picture of himself and Hermione stared back at him from the folded page. "You do have to keep up with your press cuttings…" His black eyes glittered._

_An unpleasant smile curled his thin mouth and Harry glared heavily at him. "_'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache'…_I just love this part. '_A boy like no other, perhaps…'_" Harry's face was burning as the potions master continued to read through the entire article. _"…Harry Potter's well wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' _How very touching." He smirked as he rolled the magazine up and held it out to the boy, whose eyes were alight with a new emotion that Snape figured was devastation and humiliation beyond his wildest dreams._

_"All this press attention seems to have inflated your already overlarge head, Potter." Harry just continued to stare at him. "You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you, but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers! To me, Potter, you're-"_

_"Of course, sir. You're right. You're ALWAYS right." Wait. That wasn't right._

_"So, uh, er…I…I give you fair warning, Potter, pint-sized celebrity or not-if I catch you breaking into my supplies on more time-"_

_"I haven't been anywhere near your office!" Potter shouted angrily. That was a bit better._

_"Don't lie to me," Snape hissed, his fathomless black eyes boring into Harry's, their face inches apart, Harry pushed up against the wall. "Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them."_

_"Is that why I'm here? You went through all that trouble to get me in here alone and you want to lecture me on potion ingredients? Or is this just foreplay? It's a shame you have me all to yourself, locked in a closet." He sighed and took a small step forward. Snape immediately took a step backward. "I'm completely defenseless and at your…mercy. What are you going to do now, PROFESSOR?" Harry took another step forward and Snape kept backing up until his back was flush with the ladder._

_"Potter! What are you doing?" The ex-deatheater looked apprehensive and suspicious and nervous all at the same time. His eyes were wide and his eyebrow arched in confusion. He stopped moving when the Gryfindor's hands came up and rested on his chest._

_"Don't worry, Professor. I don't bite…hard." Something was definitely wrong._

_"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH-" His words were cut off with Harry's mouth. Snape was horrified when he felt himself kissing back._

_Woah. That is not how that went! He kicked the boy out ON his arse, not GROPED his arse. Momentarily Snape wondered if just the Harry Potter in his dreams was a fantastic kisser with amazing buns of steel, or if Harry Potter really was a fantastic kisser with amazing buns of steel. And was the boy purring? No…that's more of a…a…a panting. Oh piss on it. It was just a dream! May as well go with it._

_He continued to devour the boy-who-lived, starting with his mouth and working his way around that deliciously youthful and unmarred skin. He had the boy half way out of his robes before the ground started shaking. Lightly at first, then soon the whole room was shaking and jars were rattling and the ladder was hitting the wall, knocking several things off and onto the floor. He threw is arms out to steady himself, but the movement got worse. Finally his dream self yelled out, "EARTHQUAKE! AHH! EARTHQUAKE!"_

_Wait…there were no earthquakes in Scotland…_

XXXXXXX

He was being shaken awake and he slowly opened his eyes to see Albus Dumbledore inches from his face. His eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, his head and stomach protesting immediately as he flew to the bathroom and vomited. Once he was sure he was okay, he slowly made his way back to his sitting room, clutching his head.

"Good morning, Severus."

"For the love of all things holy on this god forsaken planet Albus! Did you HAVE to do that? Sneaking up on a spy is not highly recommended, especially at your age."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled so brightly, Snape had to squint to look at him. "You needn't worry about me, Severus. I doubt you could've defended yourself against Mr. Longbottom in your condition."

"What do you want?" He scowled.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Oh, just bloody fantastic! Never better!"

"I see you still have your sarcasm."

"And I see you still have that migraine inducing twinkle in your eye."

"Last night was indeed worth celebrating, Severus, but I don't think you needed to over do it."

"I hardly feel like celebrating. In fact, I feel like disappearing, or stealing Potter's cloak and hiding in a broom closet for the rest of my life."

"Don't be so melodramatic, dear boy!"

"Melodramatic! How should I react? I was summoned last night, Albus! And that mangy mutt tied me down! What am I supposed to tell Voldemort? How do I explain that not only did Bellatrix die, but Wormtail was caught and I never showed up?"

The twinkle fell from Dumbledore's eye, only to be replaced with a bit of sorrow. "Voldemort himself was there last night at the Department of Mysteries. I showed up just as he was advancing on Harry. He asked me how it was I came to the boy's rescue. That perhaps the traitor had told me. He knows, Severus, of your position as a spy. I'm not sure how long he's known, but he's completely aware of it now. I tried to deny it, but Voldemort was having none of it."

"There's no way! I've been careful! He was just testing you, like he tests everyone! He always has his doubts…I'm sure he wasn't serious."

"Severus! I'm afraid that your position has been compromised."

"I can fix it! I can go to him and prove myself and everything will be fine! I can go back to spying and-"

"No. I cannot allow it! He grows a bit stronger each day and we were fools to play with fire. You're life is worth more than that. That raid was not only a trap for young Mr. Potter, but for you as well, I believe. If you had shown up, you may have been killed on the spot. I'm almost sure if it. Here, drink this."

Snape fell back onto the couch, head in his hands, and muttered something incoherent.

"You really shouldn't mumble, Severus. It's most unbecoming."

"I said, Now I'm useless to the Order!"

"Nonsense, you're just as valuable as anyone else. If not more so. You know things that we do not and are the best potion maker around. You have more value to yourself than you know. Drink up." He handed Snape the glass that he hadn't seen before. He placed it under his large nose and sniffed it.

"What is it?"

"Orange juice."

He sniffed it again. "And?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Pepper-Up potion."

Snape stared at if for a moment, then downed it in one large gulp, sighing slightly as smoke billowed out of his ears.

"So…I never have to go back there?"

"Never."

"I never have to kiss the hem of his robes? Never have to call him 'My Lord'?"

"Never."

Snape examined the empty glass in his long, delicate, pale, potion stained fingers. The fingers that had spilt so much blood, all for nothing. It didn't matter now. None of it did. "What about the horocuxes? I never managed to get any of the information we needed out of him."

"We'll just keep searching. Do not fret, Severus, my boy. Everyday we find a new way to weaken him through weapons he can never posses. Besides, you are a free man, just as Sirius Black, so to speak."

"No. I'll never be free of what I was. This war will take me with it, I'm afraid. I'll die a lonely, bitter, and pathetic old man. My only hope is that I can do it gracefully. Perhaps die along side Potter, trying to kill the bastard. Or maybe finish him off when the boy MESSES IT UP!" But the damage was done. He'd already showed appreciation for the boy and Dumbledore was beaming at him. A feeling of resolution threatened to creep over him, but disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"That's the spirit!" Dumbledore gave him a pat on the back and bundled his robe to stand up. "Now, I have to go attend a few meetings and things of such a nature, but I trust you to get more rest. You look affright." Snape caught sight of wooly, mismatched, and oddly colored socks beneath the headmaster's robes. His eyebrow arched, amusement on his face. Dumbledore caught the look. "Ah, those would be from Dolby, the famous house-elf. He makes them for me every year. They're incredibly warm in these frigid dungeons. I always do love new socks." Snape chuckled in disbelief as Dumbledore made his way to the fireplace. "Oh, and Severus?"

"Yes, headmaster?"

"It's all right to call him Harry now." And with that he disappeared into the fireplace.

XXXXXXX

Free. He was free to do anything he felt like. That included being a bit lazy because for once, he didn't have to be on guard in case he was called. Free.

A knock at his door shook him out of the book he was reading, causing him to growl in irritation. It was some muggle book of poems Lupin had left in the DADA classroom by a man named Walt Whitman, who was obviously gay. And that was obviously the reason Snape enjoyed it so much. Not that he'd come right out and said it; in fact, he'd never been seen with a significant other…ever. But when someone caught his eye, it was always a man. And those new and disturbing dreams about the Gryffindor wonder? So he just assumed. In the background, some music played on the contraption called a record player Lupin had also left. It had taken Snape ages to figure it out and was close to hexing it until one of his half-blood Slytherins saw him trying to curse it in his office and helped him. He threatened the child with in an inch of his life, however, and practically threw him out of the office afterward. Once he got the hang of it, he became addicted. One of the records that caught his eye was entitled, "Best Love Songs of the Century". At first he'd laughed, but then he tucked it in his robes and decided to save it for a day like that particular day…a Saturday all to himself, for once. But mostly they were just instrumental to keep him relaxed. In all actuality, Snape had a hay-day retrieving some of the things the werewolf had left behind. The fact that he was reading and listening to muggle love music made him feel like less of a man AND wizard. What really put the icing on the cake, though, were the pajamas he'd confiscated. They were black, silky, drawstring pants that were a tad to big for his slim figure and kept sliding down, exposing his hip bone. And the gray sweater that he found with them was about two or three sizes too large and kept falling down, exposing his shoulder and all of the scars that marred the surface. He swore he'd never wear them, that it was just out curiosity he'd taken them, but all of his nightshirts were dirty and the house elves had yet to wash and return them to him. It was like they had planned it so he'd have to wear the pajamas sometime.

He wasn't too concerned about embarrassing himself, however, because only Albus and the rest of the staff knew where his private rooms were and they'd probably think it was _endearing_ or something equally disgusting to see him like this. He swung the door open, a greeting on his lips, but shut it immediately in Potter's face.

"Leave me be, you arrogant little-"

"Please professor! May I come in? I just need to talk to you, I swear!"

He opened the door again, scowl on his face. "How did you find my rooms?"

Blushing, Harry pulled out a packet of parchment. The same one that he'd pulled out of his pockets the time Snape cornered him in the hall his third year.

"It's a map. I saw you here, so I just assumed…"

"It figures. Golden boy strikes again." He turned around and returned to his warm chair in front of the fire. Harry remained in the doorway. "Stop gawking and get in here, you dunderhead. Don't you have anything better to be doing on a Saturday afternoon than harassing old potion masters?"

Harry slid in, the door shut with a soft click behind him. After a second of uncertainty, he walked over and sat very stiffly on the couch. "Professor, what is it that you're listening too?"

"That is none of your business, Potter!" He spat.

"Er, right. Sorry."

"Say what you feel you must, but then leave me in peace and never disturb me in my rooms again, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir. I just wanted to say thank you."

"Whatever for?" He tried his best to sound bored.

"I know it was you who ran to Sirius to get help after I ran head-first into danger, again. And then you stopped him from coming when he could've died. He may not be alive today if it wasn't for you. Hell, I might not've survived if help hadn't arrived."

"Language, Potter!"

"Sorry, professor."

"I don't know why you think you needed my help in the first place. Killing and capturing deatheaters? You'll be the newest Auror in no time." He said it as if the idea disgusted him. "Maybe then you'll finally be able to kill Voldemort instead of messing things up, as usual."

"I'm sorry you were discovered. I was there when he said it. It's my fault, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be stupid, how is it your fault?"

"He…he took advantage of the connection we share, and I couldn't stop him. I know you've tried to help me, but I…I still don't know how to fully prevent it. He saw in one of my dreams, I think." Harry blushed a violent shade of red as Snape quirked an eyebrow.

"A dream, Potter? And why would _I_ be in one of your dreams?"

"It wasn't anything important. Well, unless you were a really dark, desperate, angry wizard who was using every thing to his advantage. I just had this weird dream that you were a spy like James Bond on those 007 movies and what not. It was kind of interesting, I suppose. You had this really cool car, though, that could turn invisible like Mr. Weasley's and were chasing down deatheaters with-"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, nor do I wish to learn. If that's all you have to say, then I really do want to get back to my reading." Snape did his best to look exasperated.

Harry nodded and stood up to leave, but paused at the door. "A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books." The ex-deatheater's eyebrow flew up. "Er…Lup-Remus, let me read it once. That book you have in your hand. It was just a quote I remembered. Well, good bye, sir."

Snape looked, for the umpteenth time in twenty-four hours, amused, yet said nothing until the door was almost closed behind the boy. "Potter!"

He stuck his head back in. "Yes, professor?"

"And there is no trade or employment, but the young man following it may become a hero." After the boy-who-wouldn't-stop-smiling left, Snape whispered after the retreating footsteps, "Youth, large, lusty, loving - Youth, full of grace, force, fascination. Do you know that Old Age may come after you with equal grace, force, fascination?"

XXXXXXX

A/N: There, I'm completely sober now that I wrote it, but for a while there it was touch and go …I apologize for any blatantly obvious mistakes I made anywhere. I would love to hear of them so I can fix them, however. Anyhoo. I do hope this was fantastic because otherwise I wasted a fine bottle of brandy on you guys! Haha, it was either that or waste it on my television set, so don't feel too bad. Those dreams, by the way, were Snape remembering. That's why he was all confused about the second one and thought, "That's not how that went!" Because as Freud would say, his subconscious was getting the best of him.

And how 'bout that quote at the end? Huh? Huh! I think Walt Whitman's love for little boys is an…inspiration to Snape. :snicker: I really went all out in this chapter. I don't know about you guys, but I think my favorite part was when Snape panicked and screamed "EARTHQUAKE!" I suppose I should give you guys hints, though, since I know my writing style is…unique...and finding them otherwise will be damn near impossible.

- Harry will remain formal in front of Snape because he is a student and Snape's will power and self-control is as stubborn as the Great Wall of China, which is the restaurant down the street from my apartment. (THOSE GUYS CHEAT YOU OUT OF CHANGE, I SWEAR IT! Stubborn bastards…:mutters incoherently: ) Therefore, no Sev, Sevvie, or any other disgustingly cute nicknames authors dub the horrifying bastard of Hogwarts. And Snape will not call Harry anything but Potter for a long time. If you can use this to figure out how I shall…evolve this relationship, good for you.

- If you hadn't noticed, we've hit the end of Harry's fifth year and things are a bit different. My Snape will not be a dark, dirty, deatheater, dunderhead. I like him to be more of a…intelligent, snarky, graceful, and impatient professor. Like the Snape we see trying to help Harry learn occlumency. He's still a bastard. And he still hates Harry, even after all that I just created, mind you.

- Do you like tea? I like tea. I especially like waking up in the middle of the night and heading to my kitchen to brew some to sip in silence, then retreating back to the welcoming warmth of my bed. I shall think Snape likes tea at night, also…I find him to be a man that indulges on simple things like watching the lake, drinking flavored tea, or listening to music while reading a book by the fire. Perhaps we shall learn of more things Snape indulges in…

I love all of you, my darling reviewers! And while I will not hold my story hostage until you review a billion times, your support is greatly appreciated!

Oh, (yeah yeah, I know this AN was huge…so boohoo!) that song that Harry was singing is a lullaby that my grandma used to sing to me. You can hear the tune and see the lyrics here:**www dot kididdles dot com slash mouseum slash c067 dot html . **I love it so much I had to add it to my story as somethingLily would sing to him and it may be a secret memory he has of her or something. Otherwise it makes me sad to know Harry never had something special like that…every child should have a lullaby sung to them :sheepish grin:


	10. Promises and Occlumency

Chapter 10 – Promises and Occlumency

Magic You May Have Missed

Rating: T

Spoilers: Haha…if you've never read the book or seen the movie, I wouldn't suggest reading ANYTHING related to Harry Potter unless it was written by J.K. Rowling. Surely it's common sense. Everything is fair game.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way. That's left for Severus…err…and they're both owned by J.K. Rowling.

Summary: I took the name of my story from a special feature thing in the HP: PoA dvd. Severus hates Harry…actually loathes him entirely. But soon he begins to realize he may have misjudged the situation and perhaps, Harry isn't what he expected.

A/N: I don't know how many of you noticed, but I haven't updated in over half a year…Ooops? Oh yeah. In the last chapter I spelt Dobby "D-o-l-b-y". I'm not sure how it happened, but I can promise it will never happen again. I can already hear Hermione shaking her box of S.P.E.W. badges at me…-shivers-

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The beginning of Harry's sixth year was creeping up fast on the potions master. He'd been looking even less forward to it since he'd agreed to start Occlumency back up with the brat. Well, not so much agreed as caved under the relentless coercing by Albus. The man was inches away from begging and Snape really didn't want to go there with the man's endless guilt trips. He always looked so pathetic…Or was that manipulation? He'd also like to say that besides that, the rest of the summer hols went well for him, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon. Though he was "freed" from Voldemort in a sense, he was now the primary target to most of the death threats and death eater raids that were frequented by the Dark Lord's irritable mood. So consequently, Snape had to stay cooped up inside the castle. Some of the other staff member tactlessly pointed out he'd stayed at Hogwarts during the previous summers anyway so they didn't see the big deal, but Snape glared at them until they left him alone. And then he glared at them some more for good measure. They may have been right, but it was the principle of the situation that put him in a foul temperament. Before, he could have made a few trips to Hogsmead if he'd liked, or gone to Death Eaters' meetings for a change of scenery, instead of being confined like a trapped, oversized bird. Oh the irony.

His footsteps echoed off the empty dungeon halls and he stopped before a large portrait of a serpent. From what he understood, it was a painting from some blasted muggle book called "Paradise Lost", but he could've cared less the importance it held. He just knew it terrified most of the students so they kept away from his private chambers. With the apparent exception of Potter who couldn't stay away from anything if his life depended on it. Snape just muttered his password and the snake squirmed, hissed, and the door swung open. Once he was inside, he felt something was amiss. He had this crawling sensation at the back of his mind, like he wasn't alone in his rooms…he looked to his right to where his bedroom door lay open and the dark room was seemingly empty. He then looked to his left at his desk and book shelves. Everything there seemed to be in place also. Finally he looked forward and noticed someone was sitting in his chair in the dark. Suddenly his fireplace roared to life. It was Narcissa Malfoy.

He contemplated reaching for his wand, but he was so shocked to see her in his rooms that his hand wouldn't listen to the shouting from his brain. It wasn't everyday one saw a Death Eater's wife just sitting comfortably in one's rooms with out one's knowledge.

"What are you doing here?" He shouted after he managed to compose himself.

"Severus. It's good to see you. You look well."

"Out." His lip twitched dangerously.

"Please Severus! I have not come here to harm you. I came to ask for your help!" She stood from the chair and made to stop him.

"Then go to the Headmaster."

"I already have. He was the one who sent me here…this is about Draco."

"He deserved the grade he got. Putting dangerous ingredients into other students' cauldrons is unacceptable. I let him get away with it when I was supposed to be a good little death eater, but as you know I am no longer obligated to be bossed around by a 16-year-old. Granted, Longbottom is a troll when it comes to potions and could have messed the potion up on his own, however, I saw Draco disappear into the store room more times the necessary. I should've thought that-"

"No, no Severus. I have not come to speak with you about Draco's grades. This is more pressing than that. He…Severus, he's confided in me something I cannot let anyone know or it will be the death of my son. I love him too much to see him suffer so." There was a look in the cold woman's eyes that scared Snape. If there was something Narcissa had learned over the years is was that showing emotion was weakness. Only anger was acceptable at those who hurt her family. Along with a deep love for her husband, of course. Narcissa Malfoy was a woman who knew her place and did a job at perfecting it. If anyone knew she was here, it would be her end. She was probably dead already.

"What is it?"

"In a few days time the Dark Lord is going to give him the dark mark. He wants a new spy inside Hogwarts since he says he has lost you. His first task will be to kill you! Draco told me he'd rather die than be Vo-the Dark Lord's slave! He'll refuse it! They'll kill him! You must do something!"

"What did Dumbledore suggest?"

"He thinks you could offer him the best protection. You would know what to do!"

"How would I know what to do? I'm only barely alive myself…my life is no life to speak highly of, Narcissa! What would you have me do?"

"I would have you protect him! Protect my son from what his father cannot. Protect him from what I cannot. You are his GODFATHER!"

"That title is a laugh and you know it. It's what Voldemort had always wanted, so your HUSBAND had seen it so!"

The blonde woman's eyes fell to the floor. "I did not know what I was getting into when I married Lucius. I had no choice in the matter, though. As a Black, my parents saw it fit I marry into a pure and noble family. And oh has my life been miserable ever since! I only ever wear masks, Severus! At my husband's will and at the feet of my Dark Lord! When my son was born I swore to protect him from knowing that life should the monster ever return. I plan to keep my word to my only child. I will die protecting him, but only after I know he is safe somewhere else or there will be no one left to look after him!"

Snape sighed. He had no solution to this woman's problems. Yet now he felt obligated to find one.

"Do not let my son suffer such an undeserving fate, Severus."

"Let him take shelter here at Hogwarts for now. With Dumbledore and the castle's wards he should be safe for a while. We can then make more decisions afterward once we find some place safe."

"Your help is much appreciated. You truly are a noble man. I wish my husband would take a page out of your book and stand up for his family. How did you do it, may I ask?"

"Do what?"

"Survive the Dark Lord all of these years." She looked on with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

"I didn't." That was all he gave and some how she seemed to understand. There was an unspoken farewell between the two of them and Narcissa headed toward the door. She stopped before she left and looked back at him one last time.

"I will probably never see you again. Once Draco is gone and the Dark Lord finds out, I will be killed. Draco will be here by tonight. I will give him a portkey to the edge of the wards. You shall find him there. Thank you, Severus Snape." And she disappeared with out another word.

Snape plopped down in his chair and rubbed his temples. His stress had disappeared only to be thrust back upon him. He was not fit to protect a young man.

'_You were always fit to protect Harry Potter, weren't you?'_

"Can it. I don't need to take this from you." He said to the empty room, then left with a swirl of robes to talk to the headmaster.

00000000000

It was decided that Draco would live there in his own new rooms lest anyone try anything tricky. A few months into the year they would then try to find another suitable place for him over holidays and the summer when the school was more exposed and less defended. Also at that meeting it was revealed to Snape that Lupin would be returning to teach DADA once again. Bloody werewolf. First the mutt was free and now he had to put up with another imbecile. He'd have to stock up on headache draughts this year. Merlin knew between Malfoy, Voldemort, Black, Lupin, and Potter and company he'd probably end up trying to kill himself before Christmas.

That night Severus Snape hid in the shadows just at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, waiting er…_patiently_ for the young Malfoy to show up. It had been hours since the sun had set in the west, but there had been no sign of anything. This worried the potions' master. What if something had gone wrong? What if Lucius discovered Narcissa's plan? What if the Dark Lord had summoned Draco earlier than previously thought? Or worse…what if the Dark Lord had found out himself? Snape shivered, despite the warm midsummer air. Too many innocent lives had been lost to the cause already and there was nothing he could do. He was no longer useful by any means. And he'd lived to be useful. He needed to be doing SOMEHTING that made him valuable…made him indispensable. Then once this was all over people would see him as trustworthy and honorable instead of just flinging him so quickly aside or even putting him in Azkaban. He'd fought this long for his own freedom, he would not just give up now.

A snap of a twig jolted him out of his thoughts and he was on guard, wand out, poised for battle immediately. Who ever it was no longer had the element of surprise and his cover was well enough chosen he had faith he had not been spotted. A few seconds later he heard the sound of hesitant footsteps drawing near. Finally Malfoy appeared, peaking around from behind a tree, his eyes squinting against the darkness.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy."

The boy jumped then turned to the sound of his voice, wand at the ready. "Who's there?"

"It's me! Now put that thing away before you hex someone!"

"Professor Snape?"

"Of course it's me! Who do you think it is?"

"I was just making sure! Besides, isn't it you that always tells us to be on guard for anyone and anything?"

"Very well. You'll do good to watch your mouth, Draco, as I'm still a professor and you will treat me with a bit of respect, despite the circumstances."

"Yes sir." He responded unenthusiastically.

"Follow me and I'll show you to your new rooms."

"I get my own rooms?" He failed to hide the excitement in his voice.

"Yes and they're for your protections. Be careful who you invite in or this was all done for nothing, do you understand me?" The older man's tone was very serious and there was a weight to every word.

"Yes sir." There was more fear in his voice this time. Snape smiled with satisfaction.

They made the rest of the journey in silence. Draco was surprised when they stopped at an old part of the dungeons that even he'd found unimportant in his whole, thorough, albeit secretive search of the castle. There was nothing down here other than a few cluttered broom closets. But Snape opened one of the few dusty doors and ushered him inside. It was a small space where they barely fit shoulder to shoulder and it was full of molding books, a broken desk, empty jars, and a shredded tapestry.

"Here we are." Snape said coolly, as if he was unaware they were standing in a closet.

"Uh…Professor? No offense, but I am NOT staying in here." Draco looked around, an affronted look on his face.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Honestly, are you sure you're a Slytherin? Don't be daft. The only person in Hogwarts to ever live in a broom closet is Potter…" Snape sighed. That should've been funny. Any other time he would've laughed and laughed himself stupid, but for some reason completely unknown to him, mocking the boy-who-lived had lost its usual merit. What was the world coming to? Snape just regained his composure and placed his wand to a rather distinguished looking brick and muttered 'eye of newt'. The wall moved before their eyes and revealed a rather comfortable looking sitting room decorated in all different shades of green, silver, and black, like a smaller version of the Slytherin common room. Draco could see two doors which he figured led to a bedroom and a bathroom.

"This room was used by guests of Salazar Slytherin himself…when his guests didn't really care to interact with the rest of the castle. Or when he didn't WANT them to interact with the rest of the castle."

"What kind of friends?"

"Err…_special_ friends." Snape tried his hardest not to blush.

"Lovers?" Draco was suddenly intrigued.

"I suppose so, yes, you could very well call them that."

Draco walked around, taking in all the décor. "Then why are the only paintings of other men…?" He turned to look at the older man, whose pale skin finally surrendered to the redness that was creeping its way up his covered neck and across his cheeks. "Oh. Salazar Slytherin fancied blokes?"

"Like I said…guests he didn't want the rest of the castle to know about. Only very few know about this room's location: The headmaster, Filch, myself, and undoubtedly, Harry Potter." Snape was reminiscent of the time the boy had found his way to his rooms thanks to that bloody map. Though he was curious as to whether this room would show up on the map at all. "Your belongings will be brought down to you shortly. Make yourself comfortable. You'll be staying here for an undeterminable amount of time. Remember, Draco. This room is for your safety. Be discreet and allow no one in that you doubt in the slightest." Snape turned to leave.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Your mother asked me to."

"But what effect does that have on you?"

"Because I wanted to save someone else from a life to which I am doomed…bearing a mark that was never yours to bear. It's all I have left to do. Dinner is in the Great Hall at the usual time." With a swirl of his robes he left through the dusty door that led to the cool corridors of the dungeons. Draco sighed into the emptiness and realized it was going to be a very interesting school year.

00000000000

Before Harry had left for platform nine and three-quarters from Twelve Grimmuald Place, Dumbledore had stopped by and ushered him into the library to have "a quick spot of tea and some catching up". Harry knew this wasn't exactly a good thing if Dumbledore had to prepare him for something before he got to school. Yet he vowed to himself he would take it all in stride. He was sixteen now. He could handle it.

"Please, do sit down, Harry." He motioned to an old, worn in armchair situated in front of a newly lit fire. _A bit warm out to be lighting fires._ Harry thought to himself. _Dumbledore must be either loosing it or he's so used to his office he's forgotten where he is…_ "Lemon drop?" Dumbledore held out a tin full of the yellow candy and Harry just stared in disbelief.

"Err….no thanks."

The old man just smiled and popped one into his mouth, smiling happily to himself. It was several moments later before he cleared his voice to speak. "How was your summer, Harry?"

"Very well. The week I stayed at the Dursley's went quick enough. Sirius and I have been catching up and doing a lot of practicing with spells and my homework. He knows all sorts of neat hexes I don't think I would've learned otherwise!"

Dumbledore didn't know whether or not to be glad or worried. "Fantastic, Harry. I assumed you got a great head start on your homework?" Harry nodded, suspicious. "Good. This year you'll be starting your lessons back up with Professor Snape."

"What! I can't! Snape and I…we…I didn't learn anything! He hates me! It'll be nothing more than a waste of time and-"

Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him. "It's _Professor_ Snape, Harry. And now that he's been relieved of his connection with Voldemort, I dare say you'll find him a lot less unpleasant to be around. Though he won't be all smiles either, as that's just not our dear potions' master."

The young Gryffindor thought about it for a moment. When he'd gone down to apologize the man had been a little less surly than usual, but he just attributed that to the smell of alcohol and the strange music in the background, which, by the way, he'd been unable to discover what on earth the awful stuff was. Having that as the new Professor Snape? It would just be too weird…

"These lessons are of the most importance, Harry. I know how frustrating they get for you, but I assure you that you will be in great danger if we continue to put them off. The connection between you and Voldemort is stronger than he knows already, and it will be for the best if it continues to go that way. I will leave no room for argument. At eight in the evening on your first day of classes, report to his office."

"Yes, sir." Harry sounded defeated.

"Do not worry, m'boy. This school year won't be all too bad."

"Sure it won't…"

"Well, you're getting a new DADA professor this year!" Harry groaned. Ever since his first year at Hogwarts, all of the DADA professors had either been evil, quacks, or just plain incompetent. Except his father's old friend, Remus Lupin, of course, who was a werewolf. How was that supposed to be good news? "Great…" He mumbled.

"I'm sure Professor Lupin would be delighted to hear you're so excited about his return." Dumbledore's eyes were on full twinkle.

"Remus? He's coming back?"

"Yes, Harry. Now…you'd better go get ready before Molly comes in here in full mother mode. I am hoping to have left before then. I fear I am far too old to be hovered over. I always feel like a boy all over again." Harry gave him one last smile before he bound out of the room. The old wizard just sighed and popped another lemon drop into his mouth. He knew he should've told Harry about Draco, but he felt it was not time yet. Perhaps when the boy's safety was completely ensured. Maybe the two could even learn to get along.

00000000000

"You're LATE Mr. Potter! The first night back and you can't even be on time? Tell me, what was so important you had to miss the first FIFTEEN minutes of the lesson?"

Harry threw off his robe into an empty chair, gasping for breath. "Sorry, sir! I was up visiting Professor Lupin and we were discussing some hexes and I lost track of time!"

Snape glared. "Bloody Gryffindors, always wasting my time! I suppose it's too much to hope that you've even practiced since our last meeting?"

Harry had the nerve to look ashamed. "Sorry…"

Snape sighed. "Not as sorry as me, Mr. Potter…" He stood up from his desk and pushed in his chair. Casually, he strolled around to the front of his desk and sat down on it, feet sprawled out in front of him. He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers on the coarse fabric of his robes.

"Uh, sir?" Harry looked uneasy.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"I don't mean to be rude, but…what are you doing?"

"You don't honestly think I'm going to try Occlumency with you after you've been out of practice for a year and give myself a headache, do you? You need to learn to relax, as a first step, at any rate. If you're always tense around me, then you won't be learning anything at all. It's not as if I'm going to hex you…with out sufficient reason. But that'd be your fault."

Harry shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Errr….alright."

"What hex is it that Professor Lupin was teaching you?"

"A blinding hex. It shines a really bright light in your opponent's eyes and they can't see a thing until it wears off."

"I see. There's another one you could cast that would not only leave your opponent with out sight, but could momentarily deafen them as well. Or…you could deafen them completely. I would think that would be funny to leave Voldemort with servants that can't even hear him." Snape smirked despite himself. "Would you like me to show you?"

Harry was too shocked to speak.

00000000000

The weeks continued on like that. They had lessons two, sometimes three, times a week. What they covered in said lessons progressed from just the art of Occlumency to an advanced curriculum of defense as well. On top of classes and Quidditch starting, Harry was starting to feel drained, the professor could tell. Thankfully Snape thought he was being tolerable, unless he was in a bad mood, so the lessons weren't as exhausting as they used to be for either of them. For once when he complained about not being able to grasp Occlumency the older man actually stopped and helped him get the hang of it. Snape still hated the brat. Or at least he was sure he still did. He finally managed to get a good laugh in about the cupboard joke, but that was short lived. Truth be told, he found it less draining to be something akin to nice, in his own definition of the word, to the boy.

One night after a particularly gruesome lesson, where Snape saw more memories from Harry's time with the Dursley's when the boy was just a toddler-the cupboard joke REALLY stopped being funny then-Snape could be found in the kitchen, bent over the stove, clad in his evening robes . He was stirring a steaming sauce pan intently, the same face he made when he was stirring one of his potions. He was mumbling to himself distractedly when Harry slipped in, unnoticed, his invisibility cloak in place and map in hand. At first he thought the parchment was malfunctioning, but apparently he wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep. Whatever Snape was cooking it smelt amazing! Harry almost said "MMmm…" aloud, but stopped himself. Who knew if the man would be in a good mood! Merlin knew he wasn't _earlier_ that evening. It was the first time in a long time the man had let him go early. What Harry couldn't have known, of course, was that Snape let him go because he was fighting with his own demons from his own childhood.

The young man tip-toed around in the shadows to see if he could snag a few pies and then make it back out of the kitchen with out the other man seeing he was there, just in case he was in a horrible mood. He slowly made his way to the other side of the kitchen and found the cupboard the elves usually kept the snacks in. After glancing back at the distracted man, Harry cautiously started pulling the door open, which let out a high pitched squeak that echoed off of the walls. His breath caught in his throat and the sounds coming from Snape stopped. His head had jerked up and he was looking around the kitchen frantically.

"Who's there?" He demanded.

Harry waited a moment, considering the consequence of revealing himself, before he hesitantly pulled the cloak from over his head.

"Potter! What are you doing down here? It's past curfew! Or do you think you are above such _ridiculous_ rules?"

"Of course not, Professor…I just…I couldn't sleep and I missed dinner because I was studying. My stomach was growling so loud I was afraid I'd wake up the whole room, so I snuck down here to grab a snack or something."

"I thought you understood why you weren't to wonder the corridors alone at night! It's far too dangerous. Anyone could…" He stopped, still unwilling to suggest that any of his Slytherins could truly be evil. "Anything could happen."

"I know more defense then even the smartest seventh year. It's not like I would be helpless!"

"And I suppose you'll tell me that Quirrel was only a seventh year? Or Barty Crouch on polyjuice potion? Not everyone is who they appear to be." _Not even me._

"But they wouldn't have known I was there!" Harry protested.

"_I_ knew you were there."

"Only because you are in the kitchens and the cupboard door just happened to make a sound. Otherwise you would've been completely without a clue."

"You under estimate your enemies, Potter. You must always be on your guard! If you can see your opponent, cloak or no cloak, they can see you. It's not as if you can be invisible forever, as you are still a great deal of awkward teenage bulk."

"I snuck past you, a supposed spy. I still take pride in that."

"Yes. Invisibility cloak? You continue to amaze me with your NORMALLY forbidden possessions." Harry rolled his eyes. "However, on the other hand, a map of the grounds and a means to conceal yourself could not only be useful in defense, but offense as well."

Harry finally decided it was relatively safe to grab the cakes and pies that had been taunting him from the open cupboard door. Using his foot to close the door, he made his way to the table near Snape's stove. "Never miss a chance to educate me, do you professor?" There was no sarcasm in the way he said it, merely amazement.

"No I do not. But you've certainly missed the opportunity to learn, haven't you?" Snape had finally resumed stirring the delicious smelling substance in the sauce pan.

"No offense, professor, but I've not always recognized when you hoped to pass along knowledge. I just perceived it as you yelling at me. Or picking on me."

"Because you're a Gryffindor. You place your emotions first and read no further than what you think I've said. Why do you think Ravenclaws and Slytherins excel at potions while Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors are mediocre at best?" Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Snape cut him off. "BESIDES Ms. Granger! She is a very rare exception to the rule. How Gryffindor got her, I'll never understand."

"Was that a compliment?"

"It was an observation, Potter. You'd do best to make a few of those every once in a while yourself."

Harry sat for a moment, thinking of a comeback. "That smells fantastic."

"What are you going on about?"

"Whatever it is you're making there. It smells fantastic."

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"You just TOLD me to make observations, sir. I was merely stating an observation."

"Two points from Gryffindor for your cheek, boy."

Harry sighed and started on one of the cakes he grabbed. It was ok, but it was nothing compared to whatever it was Snape was cooking. The silence between them wasn't awkward, but mutual. They were both in the kitchens on separate agendas and frankly, Harry was just glad Snape was in a tolerant mood. The golden boy took the silence as an opportunity to contemplate everything in his life. Mainly how quickly his life had flown by. He wondered when it would slow down or if it ever would. Or maybe he would have to kill Voldemort first. Killing Voldemort. There was the reason he got out of bed every morning, why he went to class every day, and why he went to Snape to get yelled at. Or wait…"taught". Well, killing Voldemort…and then now Ginny, of course. The two had been dating for a couple of weeks now and Harry noticed how happy he was when in her presence. She was finally someone who truly cared about him and would support him to the very, perhaps bitter, end. Just knowing she was there calmed him.

He was jolted out of his trance by a bowl being set in front of him. It was a bowl of the soup Snape had been making. He looked questioningly at his professor.

"Eat. I didn't poison it. It's by far better than any of those sweets. And better for you since you missed dinner."

Harry was shocked and sat gaping for a few moments before sniffing the steam rising from the bowl. Warmth flood through his head and his eyes reflexively slid shut as he let the steam roll over his face and lick at his neck. The ex-death eater sat across from him, watching with a blank expression, and was casually stirring his soup. Harry opened his eyes and took the moment to really look at his potions' professor. Since the beginning of the year, he'd slowly dropped the angry glint in his eyes and replaced it with a look of pure melancholy. The older man wouldn't admit it, but Harry was sure it had something to do with being bored or lonely, assuming the man was capable of such feelings. Lately his face was calm versus the usual agitated air he wore. And he didn't sneer _as_ often, either. He only yelled when he was provoked, which was a nice change. Potions may still have been complicated and boring, but at least they didn't have to worry about being yelled at for no reason. The belittling comments never left, though. It seemed Snape really was a bastard on the inside. Maybe not an evil one, but a bastard none the less. He also filled out his robes a lot better too. Harry was sure that with out the extra stress of being a spy his mental and physical health had to have improved. His skin lost its yellow tinge and settled for a grayish pale. His hair was still greasy, though. Though Harry was beginning to suspect that wasn't quite a fault on his behalf. As they got older, the potions they made got more and more difficult to make and they needed to be stirred most of the class hour. After class everyone would run to their dorms to get cleaned up because of the residue the vapors left behind. Snape make potions for a living, all day, every day. No wonder the seventh years always seemed to respect him a lot more. Some of the changes startled Harry and he wondered if the professor had changed over night or if it happened before his eyes and he didn't even realize it.

Harry knew that with all the time he'd spent with the man, he'd developed a great deal of respect for him. Of course, he still didn't quite _like_ him, either. Then again, Snape—aside from the occasional humane gesture like saving his life, taking the time to teach him, and now making him soup—never really gave Harry a reason to like him in the first place. Oh yes. The soup. Harry took a spoonful, slurping it far too loudly for Snape's tastes.

"What is this?"

"Potato soup. It's nothing special."

"It should figure you'd be a good cook. There isn't much difference between preparing potion ingredients and preparing cooking ingredients, I suppose."

"Then your cooking must be awful." The faintest traces of a smirk appeared on his lips, but his eyes glittered with amusement.

"How would you know? You've never tried my cooking! And besides, I'm not that horrible at potions! I don't think. I guess I wouldn't really know because you've been horrible to me all these years. No offense." There was a hint of sarcasm to that last part.

"Self knowledge is a key thing one must possess, Potter. Know the difference between that and being arrogant and you've made yourself a humble warrior."

They ate their soup in silence until their spoons hit the bottoms of their bowls. Harry set the empty bowl aside and sighed contently. "That was delicious."

"Another observation?"

"No, _that_ was a compliment." They sat there in contentment until Harry broke the silence with nervous fidgeting.

"Spit it out, Potter."

"Spit what out?" He tried to sound indignant.

"Oh please. If you have something on your mind just say it."

"Don'tyouevergetlonely?" He spat out quickly. By the look on his face, he regretted it just as fast as he said it.

"That question had better lead to a different topic, or else Potter."

"It's just…no matter how much I wish my friends would just move on with their lives so they wouldn't get hurt, having them there is nice. I've never had people that care about me before. And now that there's Ginny…I…"

"Ms. Weasley?" That had come out sounding a bit more curious than he wanted.

"We're, er…dating sir. And she cares for me because of who I am." Snape snorted. He highly doubted that…Ms. Weasley had an obvious thing for Potter ever since he saved her. Sounded like more hero worship to him. "I dunno. Maybe I love her."

Snape could not explain why at that moment he hated Ginny Weasley more than the Dark Lord himself, nor could he explain why he felt, what? Disappointment? Jealousy? Anger? Sadness? He knew no word to describe it because he'd never felt it before. Maybe he was just over protective of the boy who was going to save the world. Sure, that was it. He was just being cautious about this powerful young man that had more to prove than anyone could ever know. Not to mention, he could do much better than a Weasley.

"And you just ASSUME that I have no one, is that it, Potter? Or perhaps I'm too much of a bastard for anyone to care about me? Would it give you some sort of satisfaction for me to admit I AM lonely and then spill all of my deepest, innermost thoughts and feelings to you, of all people? Contrary to your previous belief, I do not NEED your pity, you foolish Gryffindor. Save your melodramatics for someone who cares." He didn't mean for it to sound harsh, but it came out like razor blades across his tongue. The feeling left in his mouth was metallic and he let it fill him like regret.

"No, professor, I didn't mean it like that…you-I just…I was just trying to make conversation! I thought that maybe if you had some one who cared enough to listen instead of judge you!" Harry's eyes looked like green fire, flickering wildly behind his fluttering, thick, black lashes.

"You were trying to CARE about ME? Don't make me laugh, Potter."

"As a matter of fact, yes! This bitterness between us is doing no good! I hate how I can respect you and everyone else thinks I'm off my rocker for it!" Snape gave a grunt of amusement. "I do respect you. Just because you don't believe it doesn't mean it's not true. And you deserve the respect and then some." His expression softened. "I know that I haven't been agreeable. I'm the last person you could ever trust, actually. It's just not fair that you've done so much for everyone…for me…so much for the Order. Yet, they respect me, just a boy, and treat you like you're not worth anything. It's not fair. All those times you saved me and I treated you like it never mattered because you weren't good enough for gratitude. I grew up, professor. You have to believe me."

They sat in reflective silence where Snape didn't say anything but stared down at his lap, face passive. When the man finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper, his eyes never making contact with green. "I think you better go back to bed, Harry. It's late."

Harry nodded, though the gesture was wasted, and he stood up serenely. The sound of the chair scraping across the stone floor made Snape cringe. He only looked up when he heard the door close, the sound echoing about the emptiness of the kitchen.

AN: It was obvious that HBP did not happen in my fic because I refuse to believe that pathetic excuse of a gropey hormone fest that resembles something out of a horrible fanfiction, that Rowling claims to hate but does a good job of writing herself, ever happened. No offense intended, of course. And any mistakes made are mine to make as I do not have a beta and I don't feel the need for one. I am an English major in college so I'd hope I'd catch a majority of them on my own or I should perhaps reconsider my career path! Of course, as Dumbledore would so eloquently put it, "We all make mistakes, I dare say."


End file.
